Dragon in the Ashes
by Nehasy
Summary: The war has been over for nearly six months when a simple tour of the Astorian border goes horribly wrong. Dilandau is back and he's not particularly happy about it. Allen and crew realize that something dark is rearing its head, born from the ruins of the war and it will put everyone's loyalty and resolve into question.
1. Chapter 1

Dragon in the Ashes

Chapter 1

Peace, silence. Everything was warm and quiet here, allowing him to float through the nothingness unhindered and unimpeded by either past present or future. There were no thoughts to trouble him and no memories to weigh him down. Time had no meaning here. This was a place of tranquility and sweet oblivion.

He wasn't sure when he became cognisant. It began so subtly at first. In the beginning, it was the simple awareness of self. Existence, after such an extended period of nothingness was jarring to say the least. Instincts began to stir, urging him to move, to look and explore this strange prison. Following closely was the realization that he had no eyes to look or body to move. Had he a face, his brows would have furrowed in confusion even as his lips would have twisted into a snarl of challenge.

Time began to have meaning, and with each passing moment he sensed impending change. The once empty void grew darker as pressure began to squeeze him from all sides. That strange blissful lassitude drained away, leaving a disturbing sense of anxiety which only seemed to grow.

The pressure around him rippled and something flickered through his consciousness. There was a flash of brightness, twisting and hot. Beautiful? The concept bounced around in his mind as his thoughts struggled to achieve definition. Heat, burning…fire. Yes, he remembered fire, felt it fill him with its voracious power. Fire had been so pure, so vicious and uncompromising. It felt no pity, no remorse and it burned everything away, leaving only the softest of ash.

Without realizing it, his awareness drifted closer to the surface, drawn by the heat. More senses opened up to him, filling the nothingness and quickly overwhelming him with information his brain wasn't ready to comprehend.

The void was gone now, burned away by the fire which had ceased to be comforting. The flames burst upwards up with a roar, but he didn't hear them anymore. Screams had risen all around him. At first they were simply voices of strangers screaming for mercy, crying out in terror and loss. They served only to gain his attention and were quickly overpowered by something worse.

His name… screamed out over and over again by fifteen dying throats. Each utterance defined him, pulled him further away from the soothing warmth of the nothingness he'd been. Deep in his mind, dying mouths gaped open, vomiting forth blood as they struggled for breath with which to condemn him. Loss, pain, terror… he'd failed. Failed them, failed his mission, failed his destiny. That sweet void had now become a nightmare and it was all his fault!

Desperately, he tried to cling to oblivion, sensing that his destination would be somewhere even worse than this. Unfortunately the problem with nothingness was that it gave you precious little to hold onto. Had he possessed fingers, he'd have clawed at the fire, trying to pull himself back, but the flames twisted and spun, becoming a whirlpool of heat and blood that sucked him down without remorse.

Pain tore through him, it gave his body form even as the screams had shaped his mind. Both familiar and loathsome, it served to make the sounds even louder and more defined. One, higher pitched than the others and filled with a wild and frantic fear stood out amongst the others. It grabbed him, sank poison talons into his consciousness and the pain of his body became outright agony.

Desperately, he tried to tear it away, but the poisonous sound filled him, became him. It flowed along his nerves, defining them with its very presence and setting them alight one after another so that he was writhing in agony before he even had a body to move.

Bones twisted, broke then reformed, tearing muscles and ligaments into new shapes. Skin stretched and limbs shifted. Each new torment cemented him further in this nightmare until he thought that he'd be driven mad by it all. Was this it? Was this his existence? Through it all, the voices condemned him with their screams.

"You left us!"

"You let us die! You didn't do anything to stop him!"

"We died for you, our lives for yours!"

"You threw away our sacrifice!"

"We loved you!"

"You turned your back on us!"

"Traitor!"

"Help me please! Brother! Anyone!"

It was that last voice which was the final catalyst, sending raw agony tearing through him like a lightning strike. His heart beat so fast against the confines of his ribs that it was moments away from bursting. High pitched screams, eerily familiar deepened, becoming his own, resonating through his body and anchoring him in this hellish existence.

The pain didn't so much recede as shift, becoming external rather than internal. Lungs strained as he drew in a deep breath, the air scratching at a throat torn raw from screaming. It was an aborted attempt, a heavy pressure pressed down on him from above. Something rough and hard dug into his back, bruising flesh and helping to further center himself.

A foul wind blew across his face and he felt a wet drop of liquid land on his cheek, fouling his skin. Another foul breeze… no, breath. Someone was breathing on him, crushing him. Trying to roll away proved to be fruitless, he was pinned beneath that terrible weight and further struggles revealed that his wrists were similarly immobile.

Blinking his eyes cleared his vision, revealing a face hovering close to his own. Ugly, pockmarked, it was a middle aged man, his skin ravaged by sun and wind with a greasy beard covering the lower half of his face. Muddy brown eyes were wide as saucers, staring at him with utter uncomprehending horror.

"C…Captain Albatau?"

The words barely registered as his mind was still too deeply in shock to make sense of the words. Instead, he reacted on instinct, lunging upwards with the speed of a striking snake. His shoulders screamed at him, threatening to dislocate, but what was one more pain in this sea of agony? Teeth locked on flesh, greasy hair pressed against his skin and as his jaws tightened, hot blood flowed into his mouth.

The man howled in pain and tried to pull away, but the victim had become the aggressor and had no intention of letting go. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, trying to rip him away. A heavy fist slammed into the side of his head, stars burst behind his eyes, but it's nothing. He's endured far worse over the course of his life.

It's only after his teeth meet and flesh parts that he falls back, his mouth bloody and a chunk of flesh pressed against his tongue. He doesn't give the man a chance to fight back. Mercy has never been a part of his nature and he doesn't expect to grant any now.

Taking advantage of the man's surprise, he twists his body, ignoring the sharp bite of metal against his tender inner thighs. Already off balance by the initial attack and his hands busy staunching the rush of blood from his throat, the man is knocked over easily. Before his body has even hit the ground, fists are connecting with his face.

The first blow breaks the man's nose, sending a fresh gout of blood across them both. The second shatters teeth while the third and fourth break the jaw. After that, there's no point in counting as blow after blow rains down on the stunned figure. His palms are open, driving the heel of his hand against the hard skull with surprising effectiveness; the harsh lessons of his youth still guiding his actions. Without his beautiful crimson armour to protect his hands, he can't risk such a crippling injury. Only an idiot breaks his knuckles on the skull of an enemy.

This man… this man is the reason he was torn away from that peaceful nothingness. This man is the reason he hears the screaming over and over in his head. He deserves to die for his crime.

There's a rock in his hands. He's not sure when he grabbed it or even when he started driving it into the man's face, but it certainly shuts him up. Over and over, the rock is smashed into that twisted ugly face until it ceases to even vaguely resemble a man and instead has been reduced to simply low quality meat. That's one less voice screaming in his head at least.

"How dare you touch me!" He means to hiss the words but they come out as a shrill scream as the rock continues to smash into the remains of the now clearly dead man. Maybe if he keeps hitting him, the screaming will stop! All of his rage, fear and frustration pour into his hand as it drives the weapon down over and over again until all he knows is numbness.

Finally, after what seems like hours, his already overtaxed body gives out on him and the rock falls from nerveless fingers as he slumps over the corpse with a shattered sob. The screams still surround him and he has a feeling that they will never go away no matter how many people he killed.

"Boss… we need you by the stables." Gaddess' normally swarthy skin had a greyish pallor to it and his dark eyes were haunted by what he'd seen. The very fact that he refused to meet Allen's eyes warned him of the very worst case scenario, causing the normally calm and sedate Knight of Caeli to break into an undignified run.

They'd been assured that the area was perfectly safe. It was the only reason he'd allowed Celena to be left alone with only her nurse and two guards for protection.

They'd found Minar in front of the doors to Celena's room. He'd been stabbed twice in the chest but at least had taken his killer with him to the grave. The filthy beast was clearly a deserter from the war, clad in such piecemeal armour; it was hard to tell which country he'd belonged to originally.

The door o the room had been knocked off its hinges, causing his stomach to do several petrified flips as he'd raced inside. While his worst fears weren't realized, they were in no way assuaged. Instead of his sister, he'd found Haruna, her nurse sprawled across the bed with her throat slit. The aging woman had put up a fight judging by the bruises covering her face and the viciously split lip, but she'd accomplished her goal. A small scrap of pale blue cloth fluttered on the sill of the window. It had to have come from Celana's gown. The old nurse had bought his sister time to escape… he'd hoped it had been enough, but now he could feel that hope dying with every frantic step.

Once again, he cursed himself viciously over his foolishness in trusting the empty assurances of the towns Reeve. Worse, he blamed himself for insisting that his sister accompany them on this tour of the border. He simply loathed the idea of being apart from her for any length of time. After so many years of empty searching, he still woke up each morning frantic with the belief that her return had all been a dream. Only seeing her delicate form curled up in her blankets and smelling the sweet fragrance of her hair convinced him that it was reality.

She was so emotionally fragile, her mind still trapped as it had been at the age of five even though her body had aged beyond her comprehension. How would she react to this brutality? Would she find a place to hide? Would she run? Jeture help him…. would she fight?

His sweet sister had never held a weapon in her life, but he knew that there was always the chance that her body might remember all of those lost years. If her body remembered… her mind might as well. He quickly blocked out that thought before it could fully form. Concentrate on finding her, protecting her. She was back, against all odds she was back, and he wasn't going to loser her a second time!

Undignified curses flew from his lips as he stumbled around the building after his lieutenant. He didn't even register the other victims who lay either sobbing over the bodies of loved ones, or who were being tended to by the villagers who'd raced over at the sounds of the alarm bells.

Safe… he was going to strangle Reeve Desmondu for not noticing a group of brigands this large and organized. Surely there had to have been signs of them being in the area. Maybe that's why he'd been so eager to have them arrive.

Even six months after the war, the village was still working diligently to rebuild itself, as were many others. He and his crew had been assigned to oversee the situation of each village and report back to the palace. It was odious work totally unbecoming of a war hero, but he'd specifically requested it. Let the others all think that he was being altruistic, or simply distancing himself from the princess. He did it for the sole purpose of keeping Celana away from the capital. There were too many curious eyes and prying questions that neither of them were ready to answer. One misstep there could see his sister paying for war crimes she hadn't been aware of committing, or facing an angry mob of survivors intent on their pound of flesh.

"Please Jeture," He prayed fervently. "Don't take her away from me… anything but that!"

He barely noticed Hiru's body, sprawled out in the mud by the stables. All that mattered was the figure he saw up ahead, clad in the filthy remains of that pretty blue gown.

She was covered in blood and straddling a man who was suspiciously still. Her slender body was slumped over with her head so deeply bowed that her long silver bangs obscured her face. Slender shoulders shook violently as she sobbed and there was far too much luminously pale skin barred for his liking.

Allen's stomach churned with dread as he took in the sight of her ravaged form but it quickly turned to horror as he drew close enough to see the remains of the body she rested on.

Like the others, he wore patchwork armour, though most of it belonged to Zaibach. That in itself was bad enough, but the worst was the man's face… or lack thereof. He might as well have been savaged by a wild animal, the damage was that extensive. Every bone in his head appeared to have been pounded into paste, mixing with the gore which had once been a face. A nearby rock, stained brilliant crimson and coated with slimy objects best left uncontemplated lay nearby, making the murder weapon clear.

"Celena!" He cried out the name as he raced forward, not noticing how his sister failed to react at all to his voice, or how Gaddes tried to grab onto him and hold him back.

"Boss! I don't think that's-" The fine leather of his breeches was likely ruined as he dropped down to his knees, heedless of the gore and reached out to embrace his sister. It was only when his fingers were a hairs breadth from touching her shoulder that he froze, a little voice in his head screaming at him to be wary. For a moment, he knelt there, trying to figure out why he had the overpowering urge to raise his sword into a defensive position.

It was little things at first, easily unnoticed in his panic and the darkness of the stable, but once he'd seen them, impossible to overlook. Rather than the familiar platinum blond hair he held so dear, the locks hiding her face were a lustrous silvery white. The tears in the dress weren't just from an attack, the seams had torn in several places, as if the body inside could no longer be contained. While still slender in build, it was no longer a frail feminine thinness. Instead, wiry muscles stood out beneath alabaster skin, powerful and defined, it was the body of a young warrior more used to wielding a sword than an embroidery needle.

Worse… and it broke his heart to hear it, the torn sounding sobs were too deep to belong to a girl. Too deep, and far too familiar. The hair on the back of Allen's neck stood on end and his vision wavered as tears threatened to spill free.

"She lied…." Dilandau didn't look up or move from his vulnerable position. If it hadn't been for those softly spoken words, Allen might have thought that the boy had been wholly unaware of his approach. Another traitorous thought wormed its way into the knight's thoughts that perhaps he simply didn't care.

The all too familiar silken purr was lacking in his voice. Instead it had been replaced by a broken and anguished moan.

"The bitch lied to me…" As he spoke, a deceptively delicate looking fist rose up and then smashed down ruthlessly into the pile of meaty gore which had once been a man. Allen had to swallow several times to keep from gagging and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He wanted to scream at his loss, rage at the horror in front of him and deny the cruelty of a Fate which had given his dream then snatched it away so quickly. The happiness he'd held so desperately in his heart was shattering with every moment that passed, and all he could do was watch the broken warrior further abuse a corpse.

The blows were half hearted at best, Dilandau's rage clearly already spent in the initial attack. For a long moment, the two held themselves perfectly motionless, tension vibrating in the air between them. Then, slowly, the silver shrouded head tilted up and beneath the blood streaked bangs, Allen could see those crimson eyes which had haunted so many of his nightmares. The fires which had always burned so brightly in their depths were missing, rendering them flat and dull with shock. They seemed to stare right through him, utterly devoid of recognition, making Allen wonder just who it was the boy was seeing.

"She lied to me…"He repeated to his unseen confidant. "She promised that there wouldn't be any more pain… that the screaming would stop…SHE LIED! MAKE IT STOP!" Without warning, his eyes lit up with that familiar maddened fire and his voice rose to a shriek, splitting the air around them. Despite himself, Allen's fingers tightened around his sword and he prepared for an attack. The fact that the boy was unarmed meant little to the knight. He'd noticed the gore covering the bottom half of Dilandau's face as well as the rock. Unarmed, he'd killed a man foolish enough to think he was weak. That wasn't going to happen a second time.

It was only when Dilandau began to tear at his hair with bloody hands that Allen released his sword and grabbed onto the boys slippery wrists, doing his best to stop him. Dimly, a small voice in his head warned him that trying to restrain someone who by all evidence had just been assaulted likely wasn't his wisest move, let alone someone as psychotic as the Zaibach captain. Still, there was no hesitation in his action as he then pulled the trembling boy against his body.

Blood called to blood, no matter how twisted by magic and the need to comfort his sibling overrode all logic. Jeture… this screaming maniac was his little sister… He wouldn't lose her again no matter how deeply she hid in that hated body. He'd won her back once, he would do so again despite the odds!

As if lending validity to his mental vow, the once dreaded warlord of Zaibach stopped struggling, too exhausted to offer any further existence. Instead, he fell limp into Allen's arms, sobbing softly with such utter loss that it nearly broke the man's heart.

"Boss?" Gaddes approached cautiously, unwilling to disturb the tender tableau but reluctant to leave his friend alone with the homicidal maniac for even a moment. Trembling bundle of tears or not, this was still the child soldier who had burned their fort to the ground and slaughtered countless of their friends. "You might wanna cover him up before anyone realizes what happened." With deliberately slow movements, as if approaching a particularly feral animal, the dark haired man edged over, holding out a long cloak he'd taken off of Hiru's fallen form. It felt somewhat blasphemous to take the garment from his friends body, but figured that the man had died to protect Allen's sister, he wouldn't begrudge this action… even if it was for her psychotic alter ego.

It took a few moments before Allen responded, looking up with wide eyes of the deepest blue. The pain in their depths was staggering and Gaddes had no idea how the man was holding it all together. He wanted desperately to protect the blond, but knew that Celena was their priority. If anyone realized who Allen was holding in his arms, she'd be taken away once again and this time, no power of Fate was going to bring her back. As much as he loathed to do so, he was going to have to protect the little mass murderer.

There were too many people milling around, poking their pointy noses into everything, eager to help. It wouldn't be long before someone saw Allen comforting someone and tried to get involved. He had to get them away from everything as quickly as possible. Worse, Dilandau's appearance was simply far too unique and well known to be mistaken for anyone else in Astoria. After the deaths of Emperor Dornkirk and Lord Folken, the boy was by far the most wanted man on Gaea and everyone knew he was still at large.

Still moving carefully, Gaddes drew close enough to drape the cloak over the slender figure, making sure that he never touched that too white skin with his own hands. The child was poison as far as he was concerned, destroying everything he touched. How sweet tender Celena had carried such a viper within her was utterly beyond him.

Smiling softly in thanks, Allen pulled the loose hood up over those brilliant silver locks, still receiving no resistance from Dilandau. It was more than a little unnerving as far as Gaddes was concerned, either there was something seriously wrong with the kid… more than the usual, or he was one hell of an actor. He simply couldn't imagine that a few deaths would cause the little psycho to do much more than bat an eye and yawn in boredom.

"What the hell happened Boss?" He found himself asking, and immediately regretting when he saw how Allen's face grew pale and sickened.

"Thank you Gaddes." The blond knight murmured softly, tugging at the edge of the hood to ensure that all the hair was properly covered. "I… I need you to stay quiet about this for the moment. Can you do that?"

Dark eyes narrowed at the request. Keeping things from the crew was nearly impossible at the best of times, and this wasn't some tiny indiscretion like sneaking back to the barracks after an unauthorised night on the town. Besides, the crew all knew about Allen's sister. They'd been there when she'd crawled out of that damned melef at the end of the war. It hurt that after all they'd been through, Allen felt like he couldn't trust them.

"I… I need to know what happened, to see if I can get her back. This might just be temporary… a reaction to the battle here…" He was grasping at straws and they both knew it.

"You can count on me." Gaddes replied softly, inwardly hating himself for agreeing to help the little monster in any way. While he might love and cherish Allen's sister, he'd much rather see her alter ego drowned in a lake… repeatedly. "You can count on all of us… you know that right?"

The blond head nodded slightly but before he could say anything, a soft voice drifted up from the depths of the cloak.

"I don't want to be here… she promised…" The aforementioned child warrior whimpered softly, his face buried against Allen's shoulder. "I keep hearing them screaming… Please make them stop screaming… Chesta… Gatti…"

Both men sighed for vastly different reasons. One was torn by the suffering clearly evidenced by the words, love battering down the barriers of the past, creating a powerful loyalty. The other thought of how difficult this was all going to be, and the danger they were all in because of it. Still, he was nothing if not loyal to his boss and friend. The two had been through too much together for a little thing like this to get between them. If Allen wanted his silence and cooperation, he'd have it.

"Let's get him out of here, I think I hear Reeve Desmondu over there." He motioned with his chin off to the left and then held out a hand to help the knight stand up. Normally Allen was quick and decisive, but this had clearly pushed him to his limits. It didn't matter, Gaddes was there to help him in any way he needed until he got his feet back under him. "There should be a room we can take over until we can radio for Crusade to come and pick us up."

Doing his best not to jostle either of them, he helped the Knight to his feet, noticing that he held the boy's body in his arms and that Dilandau didn't seem to be struggling at all, in fact, if it wasn't for the softly murmured rantings, he'd have thought the boy was out cold. That was likely a good thing though. No one would question seeing a knight carrying a cloaked girl in their arms, especially after an attack like this. If they happened to see any of the ruined dress which was still visible in places, it would only further confirm the illusion.

Still, every illusion needed help, and with a few quick motions of his hands, Gaddes had three nearby crewmembers push the crowd back, giving Allen room to walk. As curious as the onlookers were, they weren't rude or crass enough to struggle against the call for space or bother the obviously distraught knight with pointless questions.

While everyone was watching the handsome golden Knight, Gaddes quickly threw a few burlap bags over the remains of Celena's attacker, hiding him from prying eyes. Best if no one saw the brutality which had killed him, or the man's partial state of undress. Celena's reputation would likely suffer enough in the coming days as they struggled to uphold a lie. He didn't need to add to it.

"Get rid of the body and say nothing about it." He quietly ordered Riom, the nearest crew member as he brushed past him, following in Allen's wake. While he might allow himself to be complicit in this upcoming deception, he wasn't fool enough to believe that his friend was safe for even a moment with his newly returned "little brother".


	2. Chapter 2

Dragon in the Ashes

Chapter 2

"Not to sound disrespectful at all Boss…" Gaddes hedged the instant the door to the room was closed and bolted. Allen glanced over at him and sighed softly, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

"And yet I have the strongest feeling you will be."

"Yeah… um… so, what in Jeture's name do we do with him? I mean… we can't keep him. He's a war criminal who sort of hates your guts… Not to mention the whole crazy thing."

"Perhaps, but he's also my sister and a Shezar. That makes him my responsibility." Gaddes shook his head in exasperation. This conversation was so many levels of wrong all rolled into one. Worse, he recognized the iron resolution in his friend's voice, warning that his mind wasn't going to be changed no matter how much logic Gaddes used.

Resigned, he watched as Allen gently lay the still trembling youth on the bed. They were using Allen's room which thankfully had remained mostly untouched during the attack. It was difficult not to wince as the once pristine sheets were quickly smeared with bits of gore. It was impossible to tell how much of it was his, and how much belonged to that pig out back. While even in his most generous of moods, Gaddes would have laughed at any injury Dilandau might have acquired, he understood that Allen had quite thoroughly convinced himself that Celena was still in there. An injury to the little monster was an injury to her, and there was no way that he was going to let his best friend suffer like that.

Swearing softly at his lot in life, Gaddes walked over to the pitcher of water the innkeeper had so thoughtfully provided for washing and poured it into the generous basin. It would be cool, but he doubted that the kid was in any shape to care right about now.

"We need to clean him up." He found himself murmuring softly as he soaked a cloth in the water. "Look for injuries and what not…" They both refrained from looking directly at the teen, neither one of them wanting to acknowledge what the "what not" entailed. After all, they'd both seen his attackers state of undress. All too familiar with the horrors of war, their imaginations proved to be fertile ground for all sorts of unspeakable scenarios.

"Maybe… maybe he killed the bastard before…" He meant the words to be comfort, but judging by how Allen winced and seemed to cling to the boy a little tighter, it likely had the opposite effect.

For a long moment, Gadess stood there, holding the basin and the wet cloth in his hands, unsure of how to proceed. He was a soldier not a medic dammit!

"You know… Teo would be better at this." With tender care that belied his revulsion over touching the Zaibach monster, he began to carefully clean the gore off of those long slender fingers, doing his best to ignore how similar they were to the older Shezar's. "He's the one with some medical training. I mean, he's no Millerna, but he's better than nothing."

"That's Princess Millerna." Allen corrected automatically as he glanced towards the door with troubled eyes. "And I don't want to tell the crew… not yet."

"You can't keep this from them for long." Gaddes continued to press. "It's not like they don't know about your sister. They're loyal men. You can count on them to keep their mouths shut and their priorities straight." Of course, Allen was never overly rational when it came to his little sister and this was simply one more example. While it hurt to see this sudden paranoia towards the crew, he supposed that he understood it a little. If he'd had a younger sibling who'd been through what Celena had, he'd be an overprotective idiot too.

"I understand that this has got to be hard on you Boss, but remember that this isn't Celena right now. It's Dilandau and he's dangerous. There's no way the two of us can control him." Yeah, not the right words to use judging by the cold glare he received.

Ducking his head, he focussed on washing the hand in the basin and frowned slightly as he noticed something wholly unexpected about the boy's wrists. There were fine scars encircling them. Some were old and faded into near invisibility while others were still fresh and raw. He was no expert, but they looked to be only a week or so old and he knew damn well that Celena's wrists had been unmarked. They looked… well they looked like the wrists of a prisoner, someone who'd been bound in irons. When had the Zaibach Captain been imprisoned? Surely they would have heard something if he'd been captured at any time. It would have been a huge victory for anyone involved.

Leaning closer and running the cloth over the wounds, he finally noticed how still the limb was. Dark eyes slowly looked up, studying the body in Allen's arms and saw a brilliant crimson eye watching him from beneath the silver bangs. His entire body tensed but before he could gasp out more than a curse, a foot kicked out from beneath the cloak, catching him square in the jaw and sending him flying off the bed.

Landing hard, he fought against the darkness which suddenly clouded the edges of his vision and struggled to regain his equilibrium. When the hell did everything start spinning? His stunned brain struggled to follow the movements of the cloaked figure as Dilandau twisted like a live eel in Allen's surprise slackened grasp. There was a glint of metal against the red of bloody flesh and the pale flash of a suddenly bared throat.

Somehow the little monster had gotten behind Allen on the bed. The hand that Gaddes had been cleaning only moments before was now tangled in Allen's long blond hair, pulling his head back viciously while the other held a knife firmly against the knight's throat.

For a long moment, all Gaddes could do was crouch there and glare, cursing his stupidity at thinking that the boy was still deep in the throes of shock. Dammit, he hadn't even seen the kid pick up the knife! It must have been when Allen had wrapped the cloak around him and the little bastard had been hiding it ever since.

"I don't know what sort of sick game you have going here Shezar, but I'll be leaving now. Back off Pissant or I'll slit his fucking throat!" The last bit was hissed at Gaddes who had just managed to get his feet properly under him and was pondering how best to disarm the psycho without hurting Allen.

Rather than fight or defend himself, the knight held himself perfectly still, swallowing reflexively and feeling the sharp edge of the knife press against his flesh warningly. His blue eyes gave Gaddes a warning look, silently ordering him to remain where he was.

"Dilandau, we're not your enemy." He began in a soft and surprisingly calm voice considering the danger of the situation. "The war is over. It's been over for nearly six months. Zaibach lost."

That earned him a snort of utter contempt and the knife pressed a little harder against his throat. Gaddes silently cursed himself as he watched bright crimson blood beading along the edge of the blade. The kid clearly wasn't bluffing. He clearly thought very little of adding another death to tonight's list., even if it was his would be savior.

"Bullshit. The Zaibach Empire is all powerful! They'd never lose to your backwater country or any of the barbarians." The hand on the knife never wavered; his confidence in his adopted country was absolute.

Allen drew in a deep breath, fully aware that he was walking on the razors edge of death and that a single misspoken word would end it all. Gaddes hated feeling so utterly powerless, but right now this was out of his hands. Allen seemed to know what he was doing however, treating the kid the way one would with a wild animal. The slightest hint of aggression would lead to an attack. So long as he remained calm and confident, it would keep the no doubt confused teenager off balance and possibly make him listen to what was being said.

"Do you remember the last battle?" The knight continued to press, ignoring how the fingers in his hair tightened minutely. "Do you remember Escaflowne?" It was a gamble, a dangerous one considering how the merest mention of the white guimelef seemed to send the boy into a psychotic rage.

The knife pressed against his throat seemed to tremble slightly and he could feel the short quickened breaths against the back of his neck as his words seemed to spur memories. _Please Celena… remember who you are… remember that you have a choice..._ He mentally begged, keeping his own breating smooth and even.

"Vaaan." Dilandau all but hissed. "It's all his fault… He took them away from me… I could hear them screaming… Gatti, Shesta, Dallet… Viole… I'll slaughter him and his dirt grubbing people once I finish with you and this time I will reduce all of Fanelia to ashes!" There was that familiar spine chilling cackle of wanton malice that he was so familiar with and Allen cursed in an ungentlemanly fashion in his head. He was losing him!

"Jajuka! What about Jajuka?" That had been the Slayer the boy had called to back in the graveyard when they'd first realized that Celena and Dilandau were one and the same. Even in his final moments of terror, that name had been screamed out over and over as well. It was a desperate ploy, but at the sound of the name, the fingers clenching his hair relaxed and the knife seemed to pull back minutely.

"…Jajuka?" As if a switch had been flipped, the crazed manic suddenly sounded so much like a frightened child that it made the knight ache inside.

"He wanted you to have a choice… Don't throw it away." Allen wanted to leap off of the bed and put some distance between them more than anything, but deep inside he knew that any sudden movements would shatter the fragile spell which held the pale boy at bay. Setting him off at this point would likely mean losing Celena forever.

With deliberate slowness, he turned around to face his young nemesis, schooling his features carefully to appear far calmer than he felt. Gripping fingers released him, sliding through his hair without resistance and there was no sharp pain from the knife. He was listening… praise Jeture, he was listening.

Dilandau knelt there on the bed, less than a foot away. His one hand was still partially raised, a few long golden strands of hair dangling from his fingers. The other still held the knife, but the grip was loose and Allen knew that he could knock it away easily should he need to. Ignoring it for the moment, he instead focussed on those troubled crimson eyes, willing them to soften to pale blue. That dull glazed look had returned and they seemed to stare through him, seeing another time.

Allen didn't know what sort of relationship Dilandau had had with the strange beastman they'd found in the ruined melef, but he thanked Fate for the power it held over his sibling.

"He died… didn't he." It wasn't so much of a question as a statement. Nodding his head warily, he watched as the fight seemed to drain from the young warrior, making him appear once again as the vulnerable and deeply damaged teenager he truly was. "They're all dead… all of them…" Those burning eyes closed and the knife was slowly lowered down to the bed. "Everything is gone…They left me alone…"

Tense muscles relaxed as the boy let out a deep sigh of utter devastation. There was so much pain in that simple exhalation that Allen turned to Gaddes for support, suddenly unsure of how to proceed from here. His momentary distraction prevented him from seeing the sudden explosion of movement as Dilandau's fingers tightened on the knife, his wrist twisting around as the turned the blade on himself and thrust upwards.

Gaddes was already moving. His body taking action before his brain fully realized what it was seeing and his fingers closed on the handle of the knife, turning it aside just in time to draw little more than a thin line of blood across the boys chest.

Allen was knocked off the far side of the bed, landing with a startled yelp. Dilandau and Gaddes were flung off the other side by the larger man's momentum and both hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of each of them. The knife fell free, landing less than a foot away and Gaddes realized that he had the advantage of being on top. Before the suicidal boy could make a grab for the weapon, it was knocked away and Gaddes grabbed the outstretched wrist and twisted it, forcing Dilandau to roll over onto his stomach or risk dislocating his arm.

Had the boy not been already exhausted and utterly distraught, the older man was positive that the pin would never have worked. The kid was simply too quick and too well trained to be taken so easily, but he wasn't about to spit in the face of good fortune and bent the arm behind the boys back before applying weight and pressing the pinned shoulder to the floor. It was a painful hold but shouldn't do any damage unless Dilandau did something stupid.

Thankfully that surprise suicide attempt seemed to have taken the last of the boys strength and he lay there on the floor panting softly after only the briefest struggle.

"T…thank you Gaddes…" Allen gasped as he quickly scooped up the blade and tucked it into his belt. His pale skin had lost what little colour it had, heightening the resemblance he had to the struggling boy on the floor. Honestly, when the kid wasn't snarling and screaming out insane threats, the likeness was uncanny.

"All in a day's work Boss." He replied glibly, hiding the fact that every muscle on his body was trembling with adrenaline. What the hell had he just done? He'd just saved the life of the kid who'd killed so many of his friends when he'd razed Castelo, not to mention all the innocents murdered when he'd set fire to Palas. Jeture, he was going to need one hell of a drink after all of this.

"We'll let you up Dilandau, but you need to stay calm." Oh are you serious? It took everything Gaddes had to not glare at his captain in utter exasperation. The kid was certifiably nuts! It was no wonder that someone had finally had enough to chained up the little psycho. It had likely been for their own protection! The men had often joked that the albino captain was little more than a vicious attack dog. Maybe Zaibach really did keep the kid on a leash and only released him once he'd been pointed at the enemy. "Do you promise to behave?" Oh for the love of…. While he really didn't want to speak against his superior in front of an enemy, this was seriously pushing the bounds of common sense.

"I'm a prisoner." Dilandau murmured, sounding utterly disgusted with the whole situation. "I would think it's my duty to misbehave." A faint smile twisted the boy's lips and crimson eyes rolled up to stare challengingly at the knight. "Just kill me and save us all some trouble."

"You're not my prisoner Dilandau." Allen's voice was soft, almost tender and Gaddes could practically feel confusion radiating off of the teenager. "I'm here to help you, but if you put either yourself or my crew in danger, I'll be forced to restrain you. Is that understood?"

Gaddes wasn't sure what the blond was trying to accomplish with this show of misplaced trust, but Dilandau seemed to think that this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Despite how hellishly uncomfortable it must have been, the boy began to laugh. The sound was harsh and mocking, offering little hope for peace between them. The laughter continued for nearly a minute before self-control was re-established, but then those crimson orbs focussed on Gaddes, taking note of his no doubt incredulous expression and the twisted mirth returned with a vengeance.

It seemed to go on forever this time and really, he could almost sympathize with the sheer absurdity of the situation, especially from the kid's point of view. If it was strange to them, it had to be utterly surreal to Dilandau.

A knock at the door silenced the laughing instantly and Gaddes felt the body beneath him tense once more, ready to fight to the death if need be.

"Boss? Everything ok in there?" It was Katz, likely having heard the sound of struggle followed by what likely sounded like a wild pack of hyena-men having a party. Honestly, he was rather surprised that it had taken this long for any of the crew to become concerned. They must be busy running interference with the Reeve or dealing with all of the victims. Still, his presence seemed to drive home to Dilandau just how precarious his position was.

"Everything's fine Katz." ThekKnight replied. "If you could keep everyone away for a while, it would be appreciated."

"Sure thing… We'll take care of everything out here. You take as much time as you need." There was honest concern in his voice. Everyone loved sweet little Celena, the crew would move mountains for her if need be and both men knew with utmost confidence that no one would get near the door without having to go through them first.

At the sound of the retreating steps, Dilandau seemed to relax once again and drew in a deep breath. It was an impressive feat considering the weight pressing down on his ribs.

"Let me up." He said, his voice sounding calmer than it had in a long time. "I won't fight you." The "for now" was left unsaid, but they all heard it.

It was with great reluctance that Gaddes released his hold on the kids arm at Allen's nod and he backed away quickly just in case another bone jarring kick was sent his way.

For a few moments, Dilandau just lay there, slowly sliding his arm down to his side and simply breathing. His bangs had fallen into his eyes again but he made no move to brush them away as he carefully sat up and rubbed the strained shoulder. Crimson eyes glanced at the knife tucked into Allen's belt before darting over to the sword at his hip and Gaddes watched those slender fingers flex, likely imagining a weapon in his hands.

Glancing down at himself to assess injuries, it was hard to restrain a laugh at the utterly shocked expression on his face as he took in the ruined dress he was clad in. His mouth opened then closed several times as he struggled to put words together through his shock and he looked up at Allen, clearly struggling for comprehension.

"A dress?!" Yeah… this totally made up for the kick in the jaw. "Why the FUCK am I wearing a dress?" Looking back down at himself, the shocked albino tugged at the ragged bits of lace in confusion, obviously trying to put together what had happened to reduce it to that state. "Did you drug me? Is this some sick fetish of yours Shezar?" That dangerous edge was creeping back into his voice and crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What, your Mystic Moon bitch isn't putting out anymore?"

Now it was Allen's turn to sputter in shock at the insinuation of impropriety. It was almost too bad that the rest of the crew couldn't see this. It would be a thing of legend.

"No! It's nothing like that!"

"Well it certainly looks like it! I can assure you that I don't spend my off hours parading around in a fucking frock!"

"You were a girl!" Yeah, the Boss was clearly off balance in this fight and the kid was just as ruthless verbally as he was on the battlefield.

"Keep your sick fantasies to yourself. You know damn well that I'm a guy Shezar," Dilandau all but leered, that familiar mocking purr was back in full force and dripping with innuendo. "Or have you forgotten?" Allen's jaw snapped shut as Gaddes' eyes widened at the insinuation. He looked at Allen, then Dilandau, then back at Allen again so quickly that he likely had a mild case of whiplash. What the hell? No… seriously no… Noticing Gaddes look of utter shock, Dilandau's smirk grew even wider and he leaned forward, eager for the proverbial kill.

"Oh… you didn't tell your crew? I'm deeply hurt, especially considering how much you enjoyed yourself."

"uh… Boss?"

"Shut up Gaddes." Allen snapped, his face warring between pure white and beet red. It would have been funny had it not been so mentally traumatizing. "It was a mistake Dilandau and you know it."

"Which time?" Oh gods… would they notice if he just covered his ears and tried to drown them both out with bar songs?

"Both of you stop!" Gaddes but in before Allen could manage to voice a retort. "This isn't accomplishing anything!" To his surprise, both parties fell silent and stared at him expectantly, one in surprise at his outburst, the other studying him as if waiting for him to do something interesting or noteworthy. "We can explain everything to you, but first you need to wash up and get into some proper clothes. Can we do that without resorting to violence?" Somehow he rather doubted that, but hey, it was a night for strangeness.

"I still want to know why I'm dressed like some stupid doll. Honestly Shezar, I had no idea you were so kinky."

"Ugh! Shut up! I don't want to hear about that!" Gaddes snarled and stood up. Before either of them could argue, he stalked over to the wardrobe on the far wall and threw it open. Without asking permission, he pulled out a shirt, jacket and pants and threw them on the bed. "You're slimmer than Allen, but it's the closest size we have for now. Wash yourself up, look for injuries while you do it. Once you're clean, get changed."

"Why would I be looking for injuries? Think rather highly of yourself do you?" How had Folken not strangled this kid? He'd thought that dealing with Van was an exercise in frustration, but this kid took the proverbial cake.

It was only now that Dilandau seemed to actually register the dried blood and gore coating his body and actually seemed to do a double take.

"Oh…" Well, that at least shut him up as he stared down at himself, trying to sort through this new mystery on top of all of the others. Gaddes was hardly surprised that he didn't remember the attack. If it had been traumatizing enough to pull him out of Celena, then his mind had likely buried the entire ordeal. "…Who's blood is this?" He sounded more curious than worried but that was hardly surprising really.

"A man attacked you. You made sure the bastard was pretty damn dead." That seemed to brighten the boy's mood immeasurably and he actually smiled.

"Oh good." Oh sweet Jeture, he was too old to deal with this shit.


End file.
